Tell me before the voices win this battle you tell me I’m better than. Tell me before I decide it is time to let go because I want to, need to, sometimes. Sometimes I need to let it all go and lose it all because I want to. I want to so badly it hurts. Can’t you fucking ever understand what that feels like? Do you know what it feels like to have this insatiable need in your soul? Burning you so badly you want to let it all fucking explode in a war that you are more than willing to fucking start because the possibility of letting it burn eases your mind in the only way chaos can. It’s so beautifully delicious.
I thrived so long in it. I thrived so long until thriving became dying and I wanted it. I welcomed it like the disease I was told it was and let it tear into my humanity. Do you know how good it feels, when you let go of the status quo and watch it implode? It’s like a fine wine at times, and you finally just get it. You get destruction. You understand the scars, the blood. You get the bad guys in every movie and sometimes, sometimes you wished they would win so the righteous, the so-called morally sound, would know what it means to lose it all. So they would know what it means to lose their minds. I can’t tell the fucking difference either. I can’t tell if I’m insane, or you are, because how can you fucking define normal. How can you be sane and define what normal is?
I can’t. I’m not sold that the voices aren’t right…something is fucking missing. That singular voice stuck in the screaming….But the voices sometimes have voices and they argue so loudly all you can do is sit and stare at the wall for hours until someone wins, and all I want it let it all burn. To let my being burn the way this hatred, this rage burns. I can’t find the off switch, or the on switch. It’s just there, there begging to be let out, been there all along, and then all I hear is screaming and do you get it? Do you get what it means when you realize that screaming is you?! My throat is raw from years of screaming for no one else but me to hear the noise. It’s so fucking loud, and hot, and it tears every inch of control, every fucking fiber of truth until all that is left is this loud, waste of someone you claim is a productive member of society…because I drank your fucking Kool-aid. Because you led me to believe there is always a reason to blame something only you can see.
Nothing I have fucking nothing.This rage has a reason. I have a fucking reason. Don’t you fucking get it! All these hours spent spilling out to you, I have nothing to prove you are right. I have nothing to give to this wretched, piss drenched world that you find so fucking appealing. This world you tell me I have to be a part of because I’m here. I’m in it, but I don’t. I’m not. I don’t want to be because as seductive, how familiar this feels, how much I missed letting myself die, this world isn’t worth it. This world isn’t fucking worth the smug satisfaction of classifying me from a book that wants to classify anyone outside the neatness as diseased and lesser. Not when this world is teeming with people just like me….raging at the bullshit. Raging at the monotony, the sadism defined at perfection. Fucking realize the disease isn’t me. This pathetic excuse of a world so wrapped in feeling good and not being mean just to spare someone’s feeling. I’m not fucking sold on what I’ve been told is the right fucking thing to do, not when the right thing feels so terribly wrong.
Fuck their feelings; prescribe yourself that fucking Prozac and I’ll give you the gun so you can fly fucking high on your PC cloud while I bring reality crashing down harder than the Hindenburg. There is no reason…there is no reason.
There is no fucking reason for silence. There isn’t. Don’t you hear the screaming?